


It'll Be Better

by IndianSummer13



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Flaurel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, We need more Flaurel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianSummer13/pseuds/IndianSummer13
Summary: She tells me that she’s sorry, because she can’t keep me. I’ll be with dad, she says, once I leave her, and dad’s really nice. Dad’s really good. Mom likes that word: good.Or, Laurel just doesn't know what to do, as told through the eyes of her unborn child.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stalking this site for long enough, desperate to read more Flaurel so I just decided to write my own. I've been reviewing other works as Gracie (my real name) but had to have something different as my pen name on here.
> 
> So this is a product of a bottle of Pinot Noir and a desperate need for Flaurel to even share screen time again - the kind of scenes that don't make me want to cry, that is. It wrote itself...like, I don't even know what this is.
> 
> I'm always up for reviews though ;)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Mom’s sad. More than sad, I think. She cries herself to sleep every night and I always reach out - I do. But she doesn’t feel me. I want to tell her it’ll be okay, even though dad won’t be with her any more. He’s watching, up in heaven, and he wants me to protect her. 

Mom doesn’t know how she feels about me yet.

She thinks it makes her a bad person, but she doesn’t tell anyone this. The words she does say, she saves until she’s so angry that she can’t say anything good at all. She says bad things. Bad things to the man who used to have a beard, but doesn’t any more - Frank - his name is. She says she wishes that he had died in the fire, and not dad.

Frank knows she means it. Frank’s sad.

He still loves mom, even though she’s been cruel. 

-

They let mom out of the hospital, and I’m glad, because she gets fresh air instead of the stale hospital oxygen that smells kind of weird. She still doesn’t feel me when I move inside her but that’s okay I guess: she’s busy being sad and mad at everybody.

Mom thinks she sleeps on her own, because dad’s not there, but she forgets I’m with her. 

Sometimes she says things in her sleep. Sometimes it’s dad’s name. Sometimes it’s Frank’s. Sometimes it’s lots of words muddled together and even I don’t know what she means, but she wakes up out of breath and sweating. I worry about her when she does.

Mom looks at herself in the mirror a lot. I think, when she lifts her shirt, she’s checking whether she can see me yet. I try and wave but she doesn’t wave back. She just looks sad and tired all the time and so I try to be really good so she isn’t sick. Sometimes I’m better at being good than other times. But I do try really hard.

Frank goes to jail. He thinks mom will be better if he’s out of the way and locked up, because he wants her to hate him. Frank loves mom so much that he’ll do anything for her. I know Frank didn’t kill my dad. Mom isn’t sure.

-

Mom’s boss is in jail. Mom doesn’t know what to do.

Sometimes, she wants to drink the stuff that would make me sick, but she doesn’t. She always decides it would be a bad idea - she’s smart, like dad always said. Frank said that too, I think, to his mom and dad a long time ago when I wasn’t even here.

Mom doesn’t know what to do about me either. She goes to the doctor’s office, and they talk about how she could take a pill and it would make me so sick I’d have to leave. The doctor gives her some leaflets and mom looks at them, but doesn’t really look at them, if you know what I mean.

She wants somebody to tell her what she should do. 

I like mom’s voice. Sometimes, she speaks so softly that my eyes close and I feel sleepy, even though I didn’t know I was tired. One day, she touches her stomach with her fingertips, and so I reach out my own and try to hold hands, but it doesn’t work.

She cries after that. 

I think mom’s made up her mind: she’s going to take the pill that makes me sick.

It’s okay. I try to tell her this. I don’t mind. But mom thinks she’s a bad person. She’s not. I try to tell her this too, but she doesn’t hear me. All she hears are the voices in her head, and dad’s voice, and Annalise’s voice, and Frank’s voice.

They’re louder than mine.

-

Mom sits in the waiting room and she’s trying really hard not to cry. She keeps moving so that I can’t get comfy and I wonder if she’s trying to get me ready to leave her. I don’t want to though.

They call her name - Laurel Castillo - (it’s Mexican, but mom hates that) and she rises from the chair. Her steps are really small - almost so teeny tiny that we hardly get anywhere, but eventually we make it inside the room.

She can’t see very well because even though she’s been trying so hard not to cry, her eyes are misbehaving and there’s tears in them. She thinks it makes her weak, but I think it’s okay that she’s sad. Her and dad made me and once I’m too sick to stay inside of her any more, she won’t be able to feel a part of him every day.

Mom isn’t sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing because she’s so confused.

The doctor is nice and smiles at her to let her know it’s okay. She tells mom about the pills that she’s going to take, and goes to get her a cup of water. While she’s gone, mom talks to me. She tells me that she’s sorry, because she can’t keep me. I’ll be with dad, she says, once I leave her, and dad’s really nice. Dad’s really good.

Mom likes that word: good.

The doctor comes back, and mom’s heartbeat starts to go too fast. It’s hurting my ears, and I try to tell her this: try to let her know I’d like it to be quieter so I can hear her breathing before I leave.

The doctor tells mom that she can change her mind, but she shakes her head. She’s being stubborn, because actually, she thinks she might want to keep me inside of her, but she’s just not sure how it’s going to work. 

There’s a lot of noise, all of a sudden. Bad words that sound like cursing and I cover my ears with my hands, because mom doesn’t like me to know about the bad stuff that happens in her world. 

It’s Frank. 

He bursts into the room without knocking - which is rude - but I forgive him because he’s come to make sure mom’s alright.

Frank didn’t do the bad things he told mom he did. Other people found that out, and they let him out of jail. Once he found out we were here, he drove like crazy, he tells mom and the doctor. I’m not sure he should be saying this, because he could get into trouble again. 

He bends down in front of mom, and the doctor says she has to leave the room for a moment. I think she might be lying, and that’s bad, but she’s doing it so Frank can talk to mom on his own, without anyone listening.  
He tells her not to take the pills that’ll make me sick. He says she’ll regret it, and she’ll hate herself, and that he can’t let that happen because she’s such a good person. Frank tells mom she’s the best person he knows.

She’s mad at him. She calls him lots of bad names, and I cover my ears again. I worry that Frank might get upset and leave, but he says he’s here to make sure she’s alright. He says he’ll do whatever to make sure she’s safe and that I’m safe, even if she hates him.

Mom doesn’t hate Frank.

She says she does, but she’s lying. 

She does hate her own dad though. He’s the one who took my dad away from us, and she feels bad that she ever thought Frank would be that mean to her: she knows he loves her. He wouldn’t take dad away, because he loves mom and he just wants her to be happy.

Mom hasn’t been happy in a really long time.

-

We go home. Frank takes us in his car, which smells a little funny because it’s old. Mom thinks about the time when Frank had a really nice car, and he used to take her places in it. She also thinks about the times when he did bad stuff in that car.

Mom thinks she likes this one better.

We go for a shower while Frank cooks. There isn’t much in the cupboards, but he manages to find enough ingredients to make some sort of Italian pasta dish that he used to have when he was a kid.

He tells mom that his ma used to like eating it when she was pregnant with him. Mom doesn’t want to eat the food Frank’s cooked, but she’s hungry so she does. She likes it. I like it too. It’s kind of spicy and warm and it feels like a hug.

Frank wants to hug mom. He doesn’t though. I think she needs a hug. 

When they’ve finished eating, he tells her he’ll clean up, and she should go get some rest. She nods and realises she’s really tired, so tells him to let himself out.

I think Frank’s going to stay though. 

Mom lies down on her bed and puts both hands on her stomach. She strokes the skin, really soft and slow, and it makes me sleepy. I force myself to stay awake though, because I’m listening to Frank in the kitchen. He’s moving stuff around in the cupboards, because he’s worried about mom and he doesn’t know what to say to her.

When she finally falls asleep and he’s finished clearing up, he comes into the bedroom to watch mom sleep. He has this look in his eyes and I don’t really know what it means, but I think he wants to join us on the bed.

Instead, he tiptoes silently over and tells mom he loves her. She doesn’t hear, but I do. 

-

As I start to grow bigger, so does my home. Mom has to go shopping to buy some new clothes, and she gets all cross and hot, and is a little rude to the sales assistant. I forgive her though, because she’s mom.

Frank keeps bringing us food. It’s really tasty.

He used to cook for mom, before she loved my dad; she liked his meatballs and marinara sauce. 

She gets a little bit hot when Frank reminds her of this, but then she gets mad because she thinks he’s trying to make her forget about dad. He smoothes down his beard because he didn’t mean to upset her - he just wanted to make her laugh. I think that’s okay. Mom won’t forget about dad, and neither will I. 

Sometimes we go to Frank’s apartment. The first time, it’s a little weird because mom starts remembering lots of stuff she did there before she loved my dad. 

He’s found some books that he thinks I might like when I’m older. They have worn edges and kind of faded colours, but they look interesting. There’s one with a patchwork elephant on the cover that Frank says was his favourite.

Mom says she can’t accept them. She’s not really telling the truth. She’s sorry that she thought Frank did something to hurt dad, and she feels too guilty to take his books. Frank wants her to have them though, so it’s a little weird because neither of them make a firm decision.

When mom falls asleep on the couch, Frank rubs her feet because he notices they’re sore. Once he’s done, he picks up the book with the patchwork elephant on the cover and reads to me. 

He’s got a really nice voice.

Mom doesn’t know I’ve heard the story of Elmer the Patchwork Elephant. Frank and I keep it as our little secret, and each time she falls asleep when he’s around, he tells me another story. Sometimes it’s one about mom. Sometimes it’s about dad. Sometimes it’s about mom’s other friends that we don’t see very often. Sometimes, Frank tells me stories about himself.

He did some bad things, in the past. He thinks the best thing he ever did though, was love mom.

-

Frank takes mom to a class one evening. They learn how to breathe when I decide to come and join them. He sits behind her and she leans against him, and she feels something that makes her take a deep breath. I think she remembers that she doesn’t hate him. (I think she remembers she loves him a little bit).

Mom won’t hold Frank’s hand after that. He’s confused and it hurts in his chest, because he wants to hold her hand all the time, but he doesn’t tell her. Instead, he listens to the teacher in case mom forgets anything, and then when the class is finished, he takes us home and puts a tray of ziti in the oven while we go for a shower.

Mom closes the door and then closes her eyes. She talks to dad while we’re in there. She tells him Frank’s not as bad as she thought, but she feels so guilty for wanting to let him hold her sometimes.

Dad lets me know he wants mom to be happy and safe, and Frank loves her so much he’ll make sure she’s always both of those things. So I tell mom. I tell her with my legs, and she puts her hand over her stomach with a smile, even though she’s crying.

When she steps into the kitchen, she tells Frank she felt me in the shower for the first time. He stops cooking and steps towards us, really carefully, then mom asks him if he’d like to feel. He struggles to say any words at all, which is a little bit funny because Frank always has lots to say. 

Mom takes his hand and places it on her stomach, so I knock gently with my hand. I don’t think either of them feel me. I decide to do what I did earlier - what dad told me to do - and kick with my legs, but careful not to hurt mom. 

Frank’s eyes fill with tears. He tells mom it’s the best thing he’s ever felt, and then he tells her thank you, for sharing me with him.

After the ziti, mom falls asleep on the couch and Frank worries she’ll get a sore neck, so he carries her to his bed. He’s so careful with her and once he’s covered her with his sheets, he presses a kiss against her forehead. Mom doesn’t wake up. Frank just watches us sleep.

-

Frank builds my crib. He takes mom shopping one day so she can pick out everything she needs for when I come out to meet her and it turns out to be really expensive. She chooses the dark wood furniture that she thinks dad would have liked but by the time they’re in the stroller section of the store, mom is so tired that she’s stopped listening to the sales assistants.

Frank lets her lean against him so that her legs and her back don’t have to do all the work. He listens to the sales assistants tell him how to convert the strollers to car seats; how to attach the footmuffs so I’ll be warm when it’s cold. 

Mom and Frank disagree on which stroller to pick. Mom yells and says that I’m not his, so he doesn’t get a choice. He tells her she’s right, and he’s sorry and she should choose whichever she prefers. 

She chooses the one Frank prefers and I’m happy because it’s my favourite too.

When we get home, he suggests she lie down and for the first time, she doesn’t argue. He tucks us in, tells mom he loves her once he knows she’s asleep, then tells me that when I get here, I have to remember mom’s always right.

-

I don’t know when I stopped thinking of mom as mom, and as ma instead. I think it was a few weeks after she let Frank sleep next to her. He spent all night watching her, dusting kisses against her skin so lightly that he thinks she didn’t feel it - but she did. She just pretended to be asleep so she wouldn’t have to say anything.

He told me about the kind of person ma is. There are lots of stories Frank can tell me about how brave she is, and how strong. He says she’s like superwoman, and I’m so lucky because I’m gonna have the best ma in the world.

I’m stretching her as I grow. There isn’t much room left any more for me to move about, but when I let her know I’m here, she always, always feels me. Sometimes if she’s sleeping, Frank feels me first and tells me to calm my feet, ‘cause ma needs to get some rest. I listen, and he tells me I’m doing good; that I just need to keep growing healthy and strong so when I come out into the world, they can bring me straight home.

I get confused sometimes, about home. Ma spends so much time at Frank’s apartment that I occasionally forget where my crib is set up.

He asks her what she’s going to call me. She says she doesn’t know - that she’ll wait until she sees my face to decide - but I know she’s not telling the truth. She’s going to name me after dad: Christopher. 

I think Frank knows this too, because he seems to know stuff about ma that she’s never told anyone. He knows she’s scared about bringing me into the world, and I’ve tried to tell her it’s okay - that I’ll be okay. 

-

Ma’s body tells me it’s time to leave one evening when she’s half-way to falling asleep on the couch while watching a movie. At first, she doesn’t know what to do. Then she calls Frank, who arrives at our apartment out of breath and panicked. He’s panicking about ma. He’s worried I’m going to hurt her, so I try to be as careful as I can.

We arrive at the hospital and Frank does some shouting until ma tells him it’s okay, and he needs to relax. He apologises and says he’s just worried, but that he knows how great she’s going to be.

She lets Frank hold her hand as I come into the world, and then when I finally get to meet her properly, she can’t see me because she’s crying so much. I cry too because I don’t want her to be upset, but I lay on her chest and Frank tells me I’m perfect.

He keeps saying it over and over and over while the nurses place me in cold scales and record numbers so they can tell ma how big she’s grown me. 

Finally, I get a little blue hat and some warm blankets so that ma can hold me better. She takes me from the nurses, and says I look like dad. Frank disagrees. He thinks I look like her, but he doesn’t say any of this. He just kisses ma on her forehead, then kisses me on mine.

He goes to kiss her again, but she tilts her chin upwards to kiss him back. He asks her what it’s for, and she tells him for being there, she guesses, while she was hurting. While she was growing me. For not letting her make me so sick I had to leave.

Frank’s chest is bursting. He’s proud of ma. I’m proud of ma too.

Ma thinks dad would be proud, that he had a son. 

-

Ma and I get lots of visitors. They all bring gifts for us - so many gifts that the room is filled with balloons and flowers.

It’s noisy when they come. I like meeting everyone, even if it makes me tired, but I like it best when it’s ma and Frank and me.

It’s late when ma finally falls asleep. Frank stays in the chair beside her bed - in between us both - so he can make sure we’re safe. She only sleeps now when he’s in the room.

He lifts me out of my cot and sings to me in Italian. It’s nice. Kind of like when ma talks in Spanish, and I feel lucky that I’m going to know all of these words: there are so many out there in the world after all.

After he’s done singing, my eyes are closed and I’m almost asleep, but I’m listening to his promise: he’s going to love me just as much as he loves ma. 

That’s good, I think, because he loves ma a whole hell of a lot. She knows it now too - feels it in her bones.

Ma wakes up, but doesn’t open her eyes. She just listens to Frank’s voice and knows she’s safe. I’m glad we have him, so she doesn’t have to worry quite so much.

I hear dad’s voice telling me to be strong for ma - he actually uses that word for her too: Frank’s word. I think this means he’s glad that we have him too.

I fall asleep against Frank’s chest, his heart beating in time with ma’s. This must mean something, I think. Like they’re in sync - working together to form a little bubble: just ma and Frank and me.

It’ll be better than it was at the start, I decide. ‘Cause ma knows dad loved her, and she knows Frank loves her now. Ma loved dad and she loves me and she thinks she might love Frank a little too.

Yeah, I decide. It’ll be better.


End file.
